Finding A Father
by Rubyslippers89
Summary: Quinn misses her family. Maybe she can find a new family when Mr. Shuester takes an interest in Quinn and her life. Maybe Finn's not the only one with a surrogate father figure in Mr. Shuester.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If I actually owned Glee, Quinn would have far more screen time, and Mr. Schuester would be shirtless at least once an episode. Preferably while singing directly into the camera so I can pretend he's in my living room singing directly to me while half-naked.

AN: So, here I am, brand new fandom and brand new story—maybe I'll find my calling in Glee fanfiction and stop having to search desperately for a job, eh?

Quinn sat on the steps of McKinley High School and fought back tears. Puck had just called her fat—again—and she wasn't sure how much longer she could take it. Noah's mother was cold at best, downright mean at worst, and his little sister bit. If she had any other options at all she'd have moved, but Quinn knew she was trapped where she was. She glanced around, making sure she was alone, and gave in to the rising lump in her throat and her stinging eyes.

As she leaned against the staircase and let the tears fall, she thought back to last year—back before she got pregnant, back before her parent's hated her. She remembered the feeling of love she got from her father's proud smiles and her mother's approving glances. Last week she had run into her mother at the grocery store and Joan Fabray had taken one look at her and turned around and speed walked away. Her own mother hadn't even stopped to ask where she was living these days.

She allowed herself one, two, three sobs and forced herself to stop. It wouldn't due to be caught crying in public over her circumstances—

"Quinn? Is that you?" Mr. Shuester's voice sliced across the quiet parking lot like a knife and Quinn cringed internally. Of course it was her—she seriously doubted she could be confused with anyone else at this point, as disgustingly huge as she was.

"Yeah, Mr. Shue. I'm just waiting for Puck."

"Rehearsal ended almost an hour ago—why haven't you left yet?"

"Well, Noah needed to run some errands, so he said he'd just come back for me." That was a blatant lie, and Quinn knew Mr. Shuester knew it. Puck had left her there after a rather public fight in the hallway as they were leaving rehearsal. He'd called her fat and left in his car, leaving her to walk back to his house on her own. She'd been too mad to walk back right away, and so she was sitting and resting before she made the attempt.

"Right. Is everything ok?" Mr. Shuester had walked from where his car was parked to sit next to her on the stairs. Quinn looked straight ahead and tried to make her voice as even as possible when she answered.

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Really Quinn? Because I don't think you're telling me the truth here." His quiet protest forced her eyes back to his face.

"That's because I'm not." She could feel the tears leaking out of her eyes, and she wiped furiously at them with the back of her hand. She'd been rationing her make up lately, or she knew her face would have been a smeary wet mess. Mr. Shuester sighed and glanced at his watch.

"Look, Quinn—it's almost six, why don't we go grab some dinner and we can talk, alright?"

"Mr. Shuester, I really don't think—"

"I insist." His face was firm, and he had used his teacher voice. Quinn found herself nodding and pulling herself off the stairs, awkwardly rising and pulling her backpack with her. She felt Mr. Shuester's hand on her elbow to steady her as she got up, and she realized with a shock that it was the first time in nearly a week that someone had touched her with anything resembling a supportive purpose. The thought nearly made her start to cry again.

They walked quietly to Mr. Shuester's car and he opened the door for her. She got in the front seat and pulled her backpack onto what was left of her lap. She sat back and Mr. Shuester's heat kicked on with a quiet sputter. Quinn hadn't realized how cold she was until she felt the heat blasting on her fingers.

"So, Quinn, what's going on? You're staying with Puck now?" The radio was playing quietly and Mr. Shuester's voice was pleasant and comforting. Quinn found herself answering without hesitation.

"Yeah, I just couldn't stay at Finn's any longer—his mom was super nice, but it just felt wrong, ya know? I swear, I almost had myself convinced that Finn was the father towards the end." She stopped short—surprised that she'd revealed so much to a teacher, but Mr. Shuester just nodded.

"And how is the Puckerman house? Do you like it?" Quinn hesitated and contemplated lying, but Mr. Shuester seemed to have a knack for telling when she was lying, so Quinn decided against it.

"Quinn?" They were paused at a red light and Mr. Shuester was looking at her expectantly.

"It's…well, it's not so great." She said in a rush. "His mother hates me, and Noah has gotten really mean lately. And his sister bites."

"She bites?" Mr. Shuester's quiet and incredulous comment seems unbelievably hysterical to Quinn.

"Yes—she's like a four foot tall piranha." Quinn snorted and dissolved into laughter, and Mr. Shuester chuckled along with her.

Suddenly, talking to Mr. Shuester seemed really easy, and everything started to bubble up and out of her mouth—she told him everything.

Everything—how awful it was living with the Puckermans, how Finn still wouldn't look directly at her, even about her mother in the grocery store. She hadn't told anyone about her mother, and it felt good to get it off her chest.

Mr. Shuester turned off the car in the parking lot of a diner and waited for her to finish.

"Ready to get something to eat?" she nodded and made her way out of the car. She felt a little drained and more than a little tired, but she definitely felt better—far better than she had since her parents kicked her out.

The conversation was light as they ate their burgers—the diner even put extra pickles on it like she'd asked—and Quinn learned a little bit about Mr. Shuester that she didn't know before. He'd studied abroad in Madrid in college, and decided to become a Spanish teacher when he came back home and saw how much easier it was to learn other subjects once he'd become fluent in a second language. His favorite musical was _The Music Man, _and he'd played the lead in a community theatre production once. And his dad was in law school, proving that it was never too late to go after what you want. They continued to talk through dessert and on the drive back to the Puckermans' to drop Quinn off for the night. When the car stopped in front of the house, Mr. Shuester turned to Quinn with a smile.

"Well, here we are, Quinn. Thanks for having dinner with me." Quinn smiled back and hesitated with her hand on the door latch.

"Mr. Shuester? I just want you to know—when I was going to give my baby to Mrs. Shuester? It wasn't really her that convinced me to do it." Mr. Shuester's face held dulled hurt and confusion, and Quinn rushed to clarify. "It was you. If I had to make a dad for my baby from scratch? He'd be just like you. I wish you were my dad, even." Quinn's voice cracked at the end of her sentence, and Mr. Shuester's eyes teared up as he patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"Thank you, Quinn. I really appreciate that. You're a really great kid and if your parents can't see that, even with everything that's happened, then they don't deserve you." Quinn nodded her thanks and got out of the car. Mr. Shuester waved as he drove off down the street and Quinn turned back to the house. She felt a little better about her circumstances after talking it out with Mr. Schuester, and she felt a little stronger than she had before.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and situations are not mine, obviously, or I'd be making a hell of a lot more money that my current, pathetic salary.

AN: Here we go, chapter 2—hope it lives up to expectations! I kinda know where I'm going with this for now, but I always appreciate suggestions

Two weeks later, Mr. Schuester was getting used to having Quinn hang around whenever she could. At first he was just concerned for her on a basic level—he was her teacher and she was obviously having a hard time. He'd always tried to maintain some distance from his students, but Quinn's predicament had touched him from the beginning. And then he'd heard through the grapevine that when she'd finally told her parents they'd kicked her out, in what Will had heard to be one of the most humiliating scenes possible. He'd heard tell of a microwave timer from one of the glee kids.

With all that in mind, he'd approached Quinn on the steps at school after watching her fall apart for just a moment and then pull herself back together in one of the most heartbreaking maneuvers he'd seen yet. She'd tried to lie when he asked if everything was alright, and if he hadn't been watching her moments before, he might have believed her. But he had seen her shudder and cry, so any attempt to tell him she was fine was not going to fly.

Dinner had been a spontaneous idea, but Quinn always seemed to be hungry these days and it _was_ six o'clock, so Will thought the least he could do for the nearly-homeless, crying pregnant teenager on the steps was buy her a cheeseburger. His gesture had apparently been the nicest thing anybody had done for her in a while because as she accepted she looked like she might cry. The resulting conversation revealed that Quinn's predicament was much worse than he had imagined. The story about the microwave timer was accurate, and while previously Will had had little sympathy for her lying to Finn, after hearing the story in its entirety, he understood better why she'd been so desperate. After all, Finn was obviously more supportive, generally nicer, and a better place to fall when her parents kicked her out, which apparently Quinn had anticipated somewhat. He'd gently told her that he understood Finn's reaction to the lie as well—he'd been lied to too, but that he didn't think Quinn was bad or evil, either. She'd looked like he'd just lifted a huge weight off her shoulders when he'd said that, and he was struck _again_ by how much his approval seemed to mean to these kids.

So when her voice had cracked and she'd all but whispered that she wished he was _her _dad, at the very least her child's, he'd just barely held it together. Quinn really was a good kid—one that didn't know what she was getting herself into and then was doing the best she could to handle the resulting bad situation.

Three days after their dinner, Quinn had shown up in near tears at his office door, brown paper bag in hand and ankles that were swelling. She'd said she didn't want to talk, so Will had let her put her feet up and eat her lunch quietly while he graded papers. Eventually, she opened up and yet another story that revealed Noah Puckerman to be an insensitive ass came out. Not that Will was surprised, it seemed that as Quinn's due date drew nearer Noah seemed to find new and exciting ways to be obnoxious.

That was two weeks ago. Now Quinn came to his office during her lunch period, during afternoon and morning breaks, and after classes and before Glee. Sometimes she wanted to talk, and other times she just wanted a quiet place to do her homework where nobody stared at her swelling belly. Will figured the least he could do was be accommodating—after all, turning away a pregnant girl in need would probably send him to hell, especially if all she wanted was a willing ear and a chair.

Today though, Quinn's face was blotchy when she'd shown up for lunch, and he knew without asking that'd she'd been crying in the bathroom. He smiled sympathetically as he pulled out the chair she usually sat in.

"I don't want to talk about it." Quinn's voice was thin and tired sounding, but at least she wasn't lying to him anymore. Will nodded and sat back down at his desk—convinced she'd speak when she wanted to.

"Noah called her a mistake." Suddenly Quinn's voice, though still quiet, was strong and filled with anger. Will looked up at her, but she wasn't making eye contact—she was staring at the floor and her face was nearly white with anger. "He asked me if I'd found anyone to take our mistake off our hands." She glanced up at him, her eyes holding that apologetic look she always had whenever she was about to mention Terri. "Mrs. Shuester was my last shot. I don't know what I'm going to do now."

"Well, Ms. Pillsbury probably has some pamphlets on adoption, if you want to look at those." Will kept his voice neutral, trying not to upset the moment. Quinn sighed.

"I know. And I've been kidding myself, avoiding going over there because I don't want to think about giving her away to anyone." Quinn's hands were wrapped around her belly and she hung her head a little. The image broke Will's heart.

"You don't want to think about it, or you don't want to give her to anyone?" Will asked gently.

"Both, I guess. I never really wanted to give her away. I know it would be hard, but hell, it already is hard. But I don't have any money, I don't have a stable place to stay, and I don't have any way to make this work anymore. I don't think I have a choice. Mrs. Shuester was right about that, at least." Will's heart clenched at the mention of his soon to be ex-wife's influence on her decision.

"That's not true—you always have a choice, Quinn." Quinn's bitter laugh sounded even harsher when Will remembered it was coming out of a 16 year old.

"Mr. Shue—I don't even have money for gas. My car is parked behind the Puckermans' garage because I can't afford to drive or insure it. I sleep on the couch in Noah's family's den. I don't have a crib, or baby clothes. No bottles or diapers. I can't afford a car seat. I can't keep a baby with me. No matter how much I want to." Quinn's face was ugly and sour; Will could hear the frustration and desperation in her situation, and he made up his mind.

"What about if I talked to your parents for you? Maybe point out exactly how their daughter and grandchild are living? It might do some good." Will had been thinking about having a conversation with them anyway—as part of his whole 'getting involved' kick. Quinn's eyes lit up a little, and Will was eternally grateful to see the angry, frustrated look leave her eyes at least.

"I don't know how much good it would do, but yeah, I think I'd like that." Quinn looked grateful and a little hopeful. Her guarded comments left him wondering what kind of house Quinn had grown up in—Will really couldn't imagine a set of parents that would willingly and _forcefully_ abandon their pregnant daughter to the world like they seemed to have. His own experiences were so thoroughly opposite of Quinn's that he was having trouble imagining Mr. and Mrs. Fabray being as unreasonable as Quinn seemed to think they would be.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I love Quinn. I love Shuester. I do not love Fox, 'cause they own them and don't give them nearly enough screen time for my liking.

AN: Here's chapter 3—ready for your perusal. I've got the plot officially set all the way up now, next chapter the fun can begin. Oh, and P.S., all of this is unbeta'd, so any and all mistakes are the fault of myself and my crappy spell checker.

When Quinn pulled up the driveway to her house with Mr. Shuester in tow, she was struck by how much bigger it seemed after nearly two months away. The bushes that lined the driveway, always an afterthought previously, now seemed menacing and cold. The three story home had never seemed imposing before, but now Quinn could barely look at it without feeling intimidated. She heard Mr. Schuester swallow as he turned off the car.

"Well, let's go, alright?"He pasted a smile to his face and tried to hide his own fear. He'd never met Mr. Fabray, and the one time Mrs. Fabray had come in for a parent teacher conference she'd struck him as a cold woman who didn't particularly care about her daughter so much as _appearing_ to care about her daughter. He had faked confidence with Quinn before when he suggested this, and he knew it needed to be done, but he didn't hold high hopes for the meeting.

"Yeah. Daddy should be home by now." Quinn was quiet as they walked up to the front door, and Mr. Shuester's hand on her lower back gave her courage to ring the doorbell. But not so much courage that she didn't hold her breath when the door swung open.

"Can I help you?" Joan Fabray's voice was polite and distant, and she held a mixed drink in her hand. Quinn was shocked into silence. She knew her mother probably wouldn't welcome her with open arms, but to not even acknowledge that she knew her—that was cold even for _her_ mother.

"Mrs. Fabray? I'm Will Schuester—Quinn's Glee club coach? I thought I could speak to you and your husband about Quinn." Will kept his voice light and non threatening, even as he felt the tension mounting from Quinn.

"I'm sorry, but my husband and I don't believe there is anything to discuss." Quinn's mother moved to shut the door in their faces and Will could feel Quinn shutting down. On impulse, Will stuck his foot in the door and pushed it back open, shocking both Fabray women into silence.

"And I do. May we please come in?" Will used his 'I'm a teacher, do as I say' voice, and Mrs. Fabray moved aside automatically. Will gently pushed Quinn into the foyer ahead of him and all three stood awkwardly in the entryway.

"Joan! What's going…on…" Jack Fabray's voice preceded him into the foyer, and he trailed off when he noticed Quinn and Will. His demeanor went from jolly and relaxed to tension-filled and angry in ten seconds. "What are you doing here?" His voice was low and dangerous sounding.

"Mr. Fabray, I don't believe we've met—I'm Will Schuester, I'm Quinn's Glee Club coach. Quinn asked me to help her facilitate a discussion with you." Mr. Fabray grunted in acknowledgment, ignoring the hand that Will held out to him.

"Well, what does she think there is to discuss?"

"I'm standing right here Daddy—the least you could do is address me directly." Quinn had found her anger again, again it was showing in her waspish tone.

"I'm only discussing the adults in this fiasco, Quinn."

"Hey, now, Mr. Fabray—Quinn has come here to ask for your support. All she wants is for you to hear her out." Will recognized that he was rapidly losing control of the situation, as Mr. Fabray and Quinn continued to glare and Mrs. Fabray wandered over to the side table and proceeded to pour straight vodka into her mostly empty glass.

"I don't feel the need to listen to anything she has to say—she flaunted every advantage we gave her! All I asked of her was that she do her duty as a daughter and follow the rules we set down—"

"Duty, Daddy? What about your duty to your daughter? Does it say somewhere in the father handbook that when she makes a mistake you should toss her out and cut your losses?" Quinn's voice, while still plenty angry, held a hurt tone that tugged at Will's heartstrings.

"Mr. Fabray—"

"And I don't have any idea what you're doing here."

"I told you, I'm Quinn's teacher. She came to me for help, and I care about her. Obviously she needs help here—if you understood what her circumstances were now I'm sure we could find some kind of middle ground—"

"I don't care what her circumstances are now. And if you care so much, you take care of her." With that, Mr. Fabray turned heel and stalked back where he came from. Mrs. Fabray finished her vodka by tipping her head back all the way and plunked the glass on the side table with a small clang.

"I think you should go now." Mrs. Fabray followed them to the door, shut it as soon as they crossed the threshold, and promptly locked it. Will turned to Quinn with an apologetic look on his face, only to find the bitter, brittle smile back firmly in place.

"It's alright Mr. Shue—it's not your fault nobody wants me." Quinn walked back to the car, jerking the door open and sitting down. She left Will on the front porch to think.

Mr. Fabray's last comment was ringing loudly in Will's ears. _Could_ he take care of Quinn? Quinn and, well, whoever else came along? _Should _ he? His first instinct was to say no—he'd maintained professional distance from his students in the past for a reason.

But that was shot all to hell already, wasn't it?

He'd been worried about paying for a baby when he was still with Terri, and he'd had her salary to supplement his own income. But Quinn had already proven that she could go without spending money on useless things—she had always seemed very responsible with money. So while he wouldn't have Terri's income anymore, he wouldn't have her ridiculous spending habits, either. And he did have the space. Terri's craft room had already been turned partway into a nursery, and there was no reason Quinn and the baby couldn't share a room, was there?

Will had made it back to the car and into the driver's seat. As he pulled out of the driveway, Quinn flicked on the radio and looked out the window. Will knew she was crying, but until he thought this through all the way there was nothing he could say to comfort her, so he left her to her thoughts and go back to his.

He figured he could probably afford it with not much stretching. And if necessary, Quinn could get a job once the baby was born—something part time, on the weekends maybe. And he already had the space—the condo was paid for, it had been a wedding present from his parents. And his divorce was about to be finalized—he got the condo, his car, and half the savings. Terri kept the television, the wedding china, her car, and the other half the savings.

So yeah, it was feasible for him to take in Quinn and her daughter.

But did he want to? Quinn was a teenage girl—and one that came with extra baggage. He knew he was ready for a baby; after all, he'd thought he was having one and had been over the moon. But a teenager? Granted, Quinn was not a typical teenager. She was far more respectful than nearly any other teenager he knew (and he'd obviously known quite a few), she got good grades, she was dedicated to her hobbies, and will genuinely liked talking to her.

But would she _want_ to live with him? He had more to offer her in terms of space and the ability to keep her baby, but it still meant moving in with a teacher.

"Hey, Quinn?" She quickly wiped at her face and turned to Will. He chose not to mention the obvious tear tracks and blotchy eyes. "About what your dad said—"

"It's alright, Mr. Shuester. Don't take it to heart. I know you can't take me in—I'm not really your problem."

"No, that's not what I was going to say. I do have the space—my condo has a second bedroom—and I'm pretty sure I can afford it, so if you want to…"

"No, Mr. Shuester—you've been really nice, and I'm incredibly grateful, but I can't let you do that. I'm not your responsibility."

"No, you're not my responsibility, you're right. But I'm not viewing this as a responsibility. You need help—a better option than the Puckermans'. I'm giving it to you, are you really going to turn it down?" Quinn stared at him for a long moment, thinking it through.

"No. I'm not going to turn it down. When can I move in?"


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Not mine. I've run out of creative ways to say this for now.

AN: Will and Quinn get some things straight about how this is going to work. Let me know what you think!

It took two weeks. Two weeks for Mr. Schuester to get temporary guardianship papers signed, two weeks to get Quinn added to his insurance plan with the district as a dependant, and two weeks to transform what was left of Terri's craft room into a bedroom for her. There had already been a day bed in the room, but Will had let Quinn choose sheets she liked. And curtains. And they had painted the room a soft pink color—perfect for when Quinn's room became Quinn-and-the-baby's room.

Because Quinn wasn't giving up her baby. Mr. Shuester had asked her if she really wanted to when they ate lunch in his office mid-way through the moving process. He'd asked her to close her eyes and think of her life five years from now. Then he asked if she had a daughter with her.

The answer had sealed the deal—Quinn's daughter was moving in right with her just as soon as she was born.

Quinn had a key, a bed, and her choice of nights to cook—it was going to be great.

Mr. Schuester had left her alone in her room—_her room_, she didn't think she'd be able to say that again for quite a while—to unpack her clothes and few belongings. It hadn't taken her long, and now she was just lying on her bed, enjoying the feel of an actual mattress after nearly a month on Noah's couch.

Will wandered back to check on Quinn. He was a little worried this transition had gone too smoothly. The paperwork was filed—Figgins was pitching a fit, but there was really nothing he could do. Quinn's father was pretty quick to sign the document granting him temporary guardianship when Will had shown up at his law firm last week. He'd briefly considered just moving her in, but the reality was that while Will could certainly afford to feed and clothe Quinn, she also needed quite a few doctors' visits in the near future, as well as a hospital stay. None of which Will could swing without insurance—insurance he couldn't get for Quinn without declaring her an official dependant.

Plus, when Sue Sylvester inevitably found out, there would be no appearance of impropriety for her to exploit.

So he'd taken his time, filed the paperwork, and gotten approval from a social worker. The home visit was quite possibly the most awkward meeting ever devised—Will had shown the woman around his condo and explained the plan. She'd watched critically over her tiny reading glasses and declared him, pending another home visit in three months, a fit guardian in a thin, nasally voice. The relief he'd felt then was second only to when she actually left the condo and drove away from him.

He'd let Quinn decorate however she wanted—and was incredibly relieved when all Quinn had wanted was a new paint color, sheets and some curtains. She did not even suggest getting new furniture, even though the dresser, day bed, and nightstand in there were castoffs from various relatives' homes. She'd meekly requested some space in the bathroom cabinets, and then informed him that she could cook pasta reliably, and head gotten pretty good at casseroles when she was living with the Puckermans. Will was shocked at how little else she seemed to need at this point.

He knocked on her door and told her dinner was ready. She hopped—or as close to hopped as she could get at nearly six months pregnant—off the bed and walked with him back to the kitchen. The conversation was easy as Quinn told him about her chemistry lab from that morning, and he bounced Glee ideas off of her. As they were cleaning up, Quinn decided to broach the topic of her baby—something both she and Mr. Schuester had avoided since she'd decided to keep her.

"The plates go in the cabinet right above you, Quinn."

"Sure, Mr. Schue. I was actually wondering if we could maybe talk about the baby—you know, before we get too much closer to my due date?" Mr. Schuester looked a little apprehensive; He knew this conversation was coming, but he had hoped to wait until they were a little more used to each other.

"Did you have something specific you were worried about?"

"Well, I have a list of things the book says I'm supposed to have—I only have three months left to get it all ready."

"You have a list? What book?" Will was genuinely baffled. There was a book that told you what you needed? He'd always supposed that women just knew these things. Terri always seemed to, first when her sister was pregnant and she was planning the baby shower, and then when she'd been planning for their own baby (as futile as that had been).

"_What to Expect When You're Expecting_—Rachel got it for me a couple of months ago. It has a list of things you should have for the baby."

"So what's on the list?" Will was half terrified of the sure to be long list of probably expensive things she'd need for the baby.

"Well, do you want to see it? I have it in my room." Quinn's tone was reasonable and straightforward; she was actively trying not to freak him out or make him regret his decision to take her in, but she really needed to get on top of getting these things.

"Sure. Let's see it." Will could tell she was trying to ease him into the issue, but as reluctant as he was to start this discussion, he knew the best way to do it was to jump in.

Quinn handed him the handwritten list, written on a piece of notebook paper ripped from a binder. It was a long list, yes, but the lion's share was things he already knew they needed.

_A Crib(preferably with detachable sides to convert to a toddler bed)_

_Crib bedding_

_Diaper bag (with diapers, wipes, baby powder, diaper rash cream, etc.)_

_Stroller_

_Onesies_

_Clothes_

_Car seat_

_Bottles_

_Breast pump_

_Baby toys_

_Crib mobile_

_Baby bath tub_

_Baby sling_

_Baby first aid kit (soap, baby Tylenol, anti-gas medicine, thermometer, tweezers, etc.)_

"What's a 'baby sling'?" While he hadn't thought of everything on the list (who knew babies needed a special bath tub?) that was the only thing he couldn't identify.

"Well, it's actually optional, so we don't really have to get it. I just thought it would be nice, but you don't have to buy one—"

"Quinn! I didn't say you couldn't have one, I just don't know what it is." Will was both worried and amused by Quinn's reaction. Apparently they were going to have a discussion about money at some point, but right now the baby list took precedence.

"Oh, well, it's a band of cloth you can wear and put the baby in, so you can carry the baby around on your chest without using your hands." Quinn looked fare more relaxed now that he didn't seem to be worried about what was on the list.

"Well, do you know where you want to register? Rachel and Kurt asked me yesterday if I thought a baby shower would be a good idea—that's generally where you get most of this stuff, right? I mean, I'm assuming you want a shower—do you want a show—" Will was cut off as Quinn launched herself around the table and into his chest. She flung her arms around him neck and hung on for dear life.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Schue—I would love a shower." He patted her back in a gesture that was surprisingly not nearly as awkward as he thought it would be. Will could feel her eyes tearing up and spilling over onto his shirt, and he decided that the discussion of exactly how their living arrangement was going to work could not be put off any longer.

"Quinn, come on—calm down a minute, please." He gently pried her off him and she pulled away, teary eyed and a little embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Schue, I got a little carried away."

"That's not a problem, Quinn really. I just want to talk a little more." He waited for her nod before he continued. "Quinn, you know that all the paperwork I just filed made me your guardian, right? That means you're entitled to ask for things from me." She started to protest, but he cut her off. "I'm serious. If you want something—for yourself _or_ the baby, you just need to ask. I can't always say yes, but you're always allowed to ask."

Quinn nodded her head and gave a watery smile. "I understand, Mr. Schue. Thanks."

"Good. Do you have any homework?" Will felt a little drained from the whole day, and figured Quinn needed some space as well. When she nodded and got up, Will got up as well and headed for the living room to watch some television while he graded papers. Quinn continued to move towards her bedroom. "Hey, Quinn? We'll go register for stuff this weekend, alright? Start thinking of exactly what you want." The smile on her face made Will feel like he had stumbled on the right answer after guessing all afternoon.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: If you genuinely think I own _Glee_ or these characters, then I really can't help you; you have much bigger problems than a healthy fanfiction habit.

AN: So Quinn and Will are getting used to each other. And I decided to discuss a little Quinn and religion, because she's sort of pegged as a "Christian" character, but there's no real discussion of what that looks like. And there's a lot more to the Christian faith than a broken chastity vow, FYI Ryan Murphy.

Three weeks after Quinn moved in with Will, she was seven months pregnant and feeling very fat. Her ankles were swollen, her feet and back ached, and he belly had light stretch marks low across the bottom. That morning she pulled her roomiest dress out of the closet and tried to pull it over her baby bump. The seams looked strained and her belly was outlined in an unflattering manner. It was all she could do to keep from crying as she looked at herself critically in the mirror. She lost her battle when she sat on the bed to put her shoes on and she heard the distinct sound of a seam ripping.

Will was finishing up in the bathroom, having learned his lesson about sticking to a schedule after the first week with Quinn—they were late to school three times from trying to work around each other in the bathroom, and Will had walked in on Quinn in the shower exactly once before installing a better lock on the door. It was going well, he thought. A glee club baby shower was planned for next weekend, and Will had discreetly checked the registry list—nearly everything they'd asked for had been chosen and paid for, and the left-overs looked very affordable, which Will was secretly grateful for.

He had begun learning the ins and outs of dealing with Quinn on a day-to-day basis. Things that had bothered Terri immensely didn't even phase Quinn. The teenager had actually volunteered to cook dinner at night—particularly once she'd realized his dishes were limited to cold cereal and grilled cheese—and really didn't seem to mind the chore at all. Terri had kvetched constantly about cooking, avoiding the task at all costs. Will was appreciating all the money saved on take out more than he was missing the witty comments of Paul the Thai food delivery guy. Gestures Terri had seemed to expect made Quinn immensely uncomfortable. The money issue was something he and Quinn were still working on. Apparently her stint as a homeless pregnant teen had made her especially sensitive to exactly how much things cost and feeling like a burden—Will couldn't imagine that level of consciousness resulting from her privileged upbringing. Every time she needed to buy something, he had to steer her away from the cheapest, lowest quality option. Sure, he wasn't made of money, but he made a decent living—they could certainly afford at least mid-level quality goods.

Will had realized on an intellectual level, of course, that living with Quinn would be different than living with Terri. But exactly how different the two were was still hitting him as Quinn surprised him constantly. In addition to making dinner, Quinn did laundry and cleaned the bathroom without being asked. She liked to sing while she did mundane tasks, and she didn't watch much television. Will had to adjust his own habits so he didn't end up taking advantage of her. After the first week, he insisted he do the dishes if she was going to cook. He started separating his clothes into whites, brights, and darks so he could at least say he _helped_ with the laundry, even if Quinn didn't really give him a chance to take his turn. He'd found out the second week, when he'd woken up at two thirty in the morning, that sometimes Quinn cried in the middle of the night. And his attempts to comfort her had resulted in embarrassment for both of them—she had really just wanted to be left alone.

He wasn't sure how to handle that, exactly. She was a hormonal pregnant teenager who had been basically disowned by her parents—surely _some_ crying was to be expected? Healthy even? At what point should he step in and try to comfort, and when should he leave her to grieve in peace? The line was blurry, but Will was learning to read her body language. When he turned off the water in the bathroom and heard quiet sobbing from the room next door, however, he decided to follow his instincts.

He made his way to Quinn's door, knocking on the doorframe and stepping inside. Quinn jerked to a standing position and immediately started wiping her face.

"Quinn, what's wrong?" Will put his hand on her arm, trying to stop her frantic fluttering around the room.

"Nothing's wrong, Mr. Schue—really. I just need to get dressed."

"What's wrong with what you're wearing?" Will was genuinely confused, which was turning out to be a pretty familiar state since moving in Quinn. He almost missed the days when Terri's totally unsubtle demands were all he had to deal with—the amount of guessing he had to do with Quinn made him tired.

"It's just not working." She turned slightly and Will could see flesh peeking out from the side.

"Quinn—what are you going to change into?" Will tried to ask the question as gently as possible, but in retrospect he thought it was probably not the most sensitive thing to say, because Quinn promptly burst into loud sobs and sat back down on the bed.

"I don't _know_! Nothing fits anymore, and this is my biggest dress—look it's split! And I'm so fat I probably won't find anything to wear at the mall even if I could afford a whole new wardrobe. Look at me—I'm disgusting! Disgusting and fat!" Quinn's hysterical rant dissolved into broken sounding sobs as Will sat awkwardly beside her and rubbed her back gently.

"What do you mean you're fat? You're not fat—you're pregnant. There is no fat that isn't supposed to be there." Quinn seemed to be calming down, and Will swallowed hard. "And you can borrow one of my shirts for today and we'll go out right after school to find you some clothes that fit, alright? It's absolutely not a problem." Quinn was leaning into his chest, and her sobs had quieted. She sniffled and the last shuddering sighs of her crying jag came out of her mouth.

"We have Glee until 6."

"Just for today, we can cancel the official practice. Rachel and whoever else wants to can stay and rehearse on their own, but you and I are going shopping." Quinn stared at Will, evaluating whether he was serious or not.

She apparently decided that he was, because she nodded and he went to find her a shirt. When she was changed and they were in the car driving to school, Will wondered if there wasn't still something bothering her—she was awfully quiet.

"Can I get a dress for church?" Will was a little surprised at the question—Quinn had been there for three weeks and had never expressed an interest in going to church.

"Sure, I guess, if you want. Do you want to go? To church, I mean."

"I think I'd like that, yeah. I haven't been since I got too big to fit into anything nice, but I miss it, ya know?" She blinked owlishly at him, and he found himself nodding.

"Did you have a church in mind? I'm sure we can find one, if you don't."

"Oh, Mr. Shue—you don't have to come with me if you don't want. I don't mean to make you come and sit through mass just for me."

"You're not. I can't promise that I'll want to go every week, but I don't mind coming with you, at least the first couple of times." Will didn't really know how to make himself clear. He would feel bad for just leaving her to the wolves, but she was right in that he didn't particularly want to go to church, either.

"I can't go back to my family's church. My parents still go every Sunday, and the priest there and I have never been very close. I think it would be awkward to try and go back." Will nodded and Quinn went on. "But when I was living with Finn, I sometimes went to Our Lady of Solace on Anderson Boulevard? I spoke with the priest there a few times and he seemed nice enough. I think I'd like to go back, if that's ok?" Will pulled into the school parking lot and parked the car.

"Quinn, if you want to go there, I don't have a problem taking you over there. Really. And if it turns out you don't like it there and want to go somewhere else—or not go at all—then I don't have a problem with that either." He didn't understand why she looked so relieved—she looked very much like she fully expected him to say no. "Quinn, did you think I wouldn't want you to go?"

"When I was with the Hudsons, I could tell it made them uncomfortable—even though they never said anything to me. When I was at Puck's, His mother kept making comments about the baby being half-Jewish. She seemed really against me going to church at all. I know my family's more religious than most people's, and I was afraid I would make you uncomfortable too." Quinn's voice was low and she was speaking to her lap instead of looking him in the eye.

"Quinn—I really only want to say this one more time, alright? I want you to be comfortable. You are the kid here, and I am the adult. It is not your job to try and curb your feelings and desires to make me feel better. I reserve the right to tell you no, but you are always allowed to ask me for things—be it a ride to church, a new dress, or stuff for the baby. Alright?" Quinn had a much more secure smile on her face and she nodded her understanding. He patted her arm and opened the car door. "Ok, then. We'd better get going—the warning bell is about to ring." He was smiling as he walked her into the building and watched her turn down the hall away from his own path to the Spanish classroom.

As he watched her walk away from him, wading through the sea of students on her way to her locker, he thought that maybe he was getting better at the parenting thing.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Here we go, folks! Chapter 6, ready for your perusal. Sorry it took so long, but it turns out that Terri is about as big a bitch to write as she is on the show, so it took a while to get right.

Disclaimer: If you sued, you'd get my laptop, a hat rack, and a bookshelf from Walmart—cause that is just about everything I own.

By the time month eight rolled around, Quinn and Will had settled into a routine. After dinner they retreated to their own corners for some time to themselves—Will graded papers or tinkered with the Glee routines, while Quinn did her homework or worked on the stretching routine she'd come up with.

The stretching took some getting used to for Will. Quinn explained that stretching and strengthening her ab muscles before the delivery would make labor easier and help her avoid a cesarean section. This didn't make Will any more comfortable watching her don her lycra work out clothes and do pelvic tilts, leg lifts, and core twists on a yoga mat in the middle of the living room. Will knew Quinn was a kid—she was kind of sort of _his_ kid—but that didn't make the positions she was using any more comfortable for him.

They were a little freaky.

She was also walking a lot—she'd told him that when she was on the Cheerios she had run four miles every night, and even though she couldn't do that with a bowling ball attached to her middle, she could still do some cardio. Will was a little afraid to object, after hearing her forceful tone. He knew that she'd given up a lot of things to carry her daughter to term—especially when she thought she wasn't going to be able to keep her—and Will didn't want to begrudge her any more of her habits.

Plus, it was pretty quickly becoming 'what Quinn wants, Quinn gets' around the Schuester condo. She was so tiny to start with that she looked like she was going to pop any day, even though Will knew she had a month to go. She was getting more and more uncomfortable, and every finch or grimace had Will nearly panicking.

Looking back, he had no idea how Terri was planning on fooling him for much longer. Watching Quinn get bigger every day, watching her change shape completely and groan with exertion whenever she had to get up—Will was sure he would have figured something was up sooner rather than later, even if he hadn't found the pregnancy pad Terri had hidden in the drawer.

Tonight, though, Will was not grading papers. Quinn was dressed to go walking, but she was skipping her stretching routine for the evening. Tonight, they were attempting to put together the crib Brittany had given her at her baby shower last weekend. There were a lot of baby things that needed to be put together, or just away, since last weekend, but Will and Quinn had discussed it over dinner and had decided that the crib needed to be first.

Quinn had decided about ten minutes in that it wasn't going so well. By half an hour into the task, Quinn was questioning the wisdom of tackling the crib on a weeknight, when both of them had to get up in the morning. The crib was in partially-assembled chunks and Will was squinting at the directions on the floor, surrounded by the pieces from the tool kit he was using.

"Mr. Shue?"

"Will, Quinn."

"Fine, Will?"

"hmmm?"

"I think it might help if you turn the directions right side up." Will glanced at her sheepishly, turning the directions right side up and internally marveling at how much more sense they made now.

"uh, right. Pass me that piece over there."

And so it continued. Eventually they had the pieces figured out and were assembling the last sections when the doorbell rang. Will was busy screwing in the leg posts, so Quinn went to get the door.

When she opened it and realized who was on the other side, she braced herself for an unpleasant scene.

"Mr. Schue!" Quinn's voice floated in from the living room and Will sighed. He'd been trying to get her to call him Will at home for weeks now, but it didn't seem to stick. Maybe once the summer came and she didn't have to keep switching back and forth? He hauled himself off the floor and moved towards the front entry.

Only to find his soon-to-be ex-wife standing in his living room with an uncomfortable-looking Quinn.

"Terri? What are you doing here?" It came out a little meaner than he intended. But, really, she wasn't supposed to be here. The divorce wasn't quite finalized yet, and they weren't supposed to speak without their attorneys present. Plus, it was nearly 8:30 on a Wednesday night—what could she possibly have to discuss right now?

"Hello, Will—it's nice to see you too. And I see you've moved on from crazy freak to pregnant cheerleader, is that a personal growth move?" Quinn looked like she'd been slapped, but Will had honestly expected nothing less from Terri. He'd already fielded suspicious looks from faculty members in the teachers' lounge, and had an uncomfortable discussion with Figgins. He didn't think Quinn had been dealing with it as much, though, her new found lack of popularity leaving most of the school in the dark about her current living situation. The Glee kids had all been pretty discrete for once, even Finn, who was still unbelievably hurt.

"Quinn, why don't you go for your walk now, alright? I promise I'll have the crib up when you get back." Quinn looked incredibly grateful to be leaving and smiled at Will with worried eyes when he patted her shoulder as she moved past him on her way out the door. As soon as the door closed behind her, Terri started in.

"Really, Will, I thought you'd be more private than this. I've fielded calls from the neighbors about your new _houseguest_."

"Let's get one thing straight, Terri—Quinn is none of your business. There is nothing inappropriate going on here, and you implying otherwise is insulting to me _and_ Quinn. She doesn't need the stress and neither do I. I don't care who called you with what news, you either tell me what you're here for, or leave." He realized he looked a little juvenile, with his arms crossed across his chest and his face sporting an angry, petulant look, but he just couldn't help it. Terri brought out the juvenile in him.

"I just came by to get my things. You said you had the last boxes from my craft room." She made to stalk back to the hallway when Will grabbed her elbow.

"They're in the closet. I had to make room for Quinn's things."He honestly didn't think this revelation was going to come as any great shock, but Terri looked like he'd just slapped her face.

"You moved that little hussy into my craft room! My sacred space! How could you, Will?"

"Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about? And Quinn is _not_ a hussy."

"You've obviously moved her in here to, to,…I don't even know anymore! But it can't possibly be as innocent as you say it is!" Terri was pale and her voice was shrill, the whole scene was bringing Will back to the stress of the last months of their marriage—when Terri was desperately trying to avoid touching him and he was trying his level best to reconnect with her and their child.

"For the record, Quinn is here in large part because you screwed around with her life, Terri. And I have legal guardianship of her—which, since we'll be divorced on Tuesday, is really none of your concern. And since you also don't live here anymore, I'd appreciate it if you would take what's left of your craft room and leave."

Will was so tired of fighting with her. He'd expected the arguing to stop when he'd filed for divorce—he now knew that was naïve. The settlement they'd decided on weeks ago—before Quinn had moved in—was the result of bickering via phone call and attorney-attended meetings. Once Quinn had moved in, he was expecting the whole thing to be over in a few weeks but Terri had dragged her feet signing the papers, coming up with excuse after excuse, until the judge had threatened to go forward with a forced, contested divorce if she didn't either come up with either her signature on the papers or a valid reason why not.

And, as it turns out, 'I'm so stressed out I have to take a spa day before I sign' does not count as a valid reason to delay signing the papers.

Terri ripped open the hall closet and grabbed the box on the floor inside in a huff. She fumbled with the door and stalked out to her car as Will watched from the doorway. She looked shaken up as she sat in the driver's seat of her car, and Will felt a pang of remorse for his harsh tone. Terri pulled herself together, though, and reversed the car out of the driveway. Will took a deep breath and went back to finishing the crib.

…

When Quinn came back from her walk, sweaty with the effort of lugging herself and her belly around her route, she half expected Will to be thoroughly out of sorts and her crib to be unfinished. She was wrong.

What she did find was Will being weirdly calm after his encounter with his ex—especially after the report she'd gotten from their elderly neighbor Mr. Weiss. The old man had stopped her going back into the condo complex and asked her to give Will his support; apparently he'd never liked Terri. That meant their argument had either been loud enough to carry through the walls or had been carried out in the driveway. Neither would be good.

As it was, though, Will looked like nothing had happened. And Quinn was positive he was faking it so hard his head ached.

"Is she gone, then?" Quinn tried to keep her voice mild, but Will still flinched when she spoke.

"Yeah, hopefully for good. Look, I don't want-"

"Don't say that."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, at some point you intended to spend the rest of your life with her, right?" At Will's stunned nod, Quinn continued. "So I know that must have been hard—watching her leave for the last time, with how mean she was being and what she was accusing you of." Will sighed hard.

"About that, Quinn, I'm so sorry about what she said—I don't know who she's been speaking to, but I promise I will try to get to the bottom of it and stop whatever rumor is going around."

"Mr. Schue—Will, I mean—I get why she said it." At Will's raised eyebrows, Quinn put her hands on her belly and continued. "Look, it had to be hard, coming here for the last of her things. I get that. When I went back to my parents' house last week to pick up the last of my stuff for my room here, I wanted to hurt them, too. It's hard to leave a place you always thought you'd belong." Will blinked away tears as he looked at Quinn, standing awkwardly in the living room, sweaty from her work out and trying to explain the compassion she felt for a woman who had manipulated her in the worst way. He closed the distance between them and pulled her into a hug.

"You're like, the greatest kid ever, you know?" Quinn seemed shocked at first but quickly returned the hug, snuggling slightly into Will's chest and remembering for the first time in a while how much she missed being hugged like that. Will patted her back and released her, stepping away and looking into her eyes.

"Come on, the crib is all done, so let's put the sheets on it and see how it looks, alright?" She nodded and smiled at him, and as they moved back towards the bedroom Will resolved to hug Quinn more often, because she totally deserved it.


	7. Chapter 7

Two weeks before her due date, Quinn was reaching the peak of how much she could take. The baby—whom she had yet to name—was pressing on her bladder constantly and her ankles looked like she'd attached pool toys to them. The weather was warming up as Spring began in earnest, and she found herself sweating unattractively more often than she'd like. She was sitting at the dining room table finishing up homework when the doorbell rang, startling her out of concentrating on history. When she opened the door and found none other than Noah Puckerman on the other side, she very nearly closed it again without saying a word.

"Wait! Q—we need to talk." He put his hand on the door and flashed plaintive, puppy dog eyes at her. Quinn swallowed and moved aside to let him in.

"Fine. Say what you need to say." They stood awkwardly in the small entrance area of the condo, Quinn's hands folded over her belly and Puck stood sheepishly with his hands in his jean pockets and his eyes on the ground.

"I, uh, well, I'm sorry." He glanced up at her through his eyelashes."

"What are you talking about?" Quinn realized that she sounded harsher than the situation really demanded, but Puck was far from her favorite person these days, so she didn't feel _that_ bad about it.

"Look, can we sit down? I've got kind of a lot to say, here, and I need you to really hear it." She gave him a searching look before nodding briskly and leading him to the couch.

"What exactly are you sorry about, Puck? Because I have to say that I've put up with a lot of your crap recently, and—"

"All of it. From sleeping with you when we were _both_ too drunk to realize what we were doing, right on down to the way I've treated you since the truth came out."

"Really? Because you didn't seem regretful while all this was happening, you know! I mean, I've been trying to make the best of things, take care of my daughter—"

"But that's just it! You keep saying _my daughter_, like she's just yours! Why do you think I was so angry all the time?"

"Well it's not like you were doing much to help out! Every time I needed your help with something you blew me off or called me a fat slut!"

"And you kept calling me a Lima Loser! How was I supposed to react? You tried to pretend I wasn't the father, and then spent 90% of your time telling me what a bad job I was doing when I tried to do anything at all!" He paused, shutting his mouth with a snap, closing his eyes and breathing slowly through his nose. "I didn't come here to fight, Q, I came to apologize to you for acting like a douche. It was wrong. I don't have an excuse, except to say that the situation wasn't easy for me either and I didn't handle it as well as I should have." He sat back and waited, looking at Quinn with a blank look on his face.

"Why did you come here?" Her question was quiet, and she found that she genuinely wasn't as angry as she was even 30 seconds ago.

"I told you—I came to apolo—"

"No, I mean, why _now?_ Why the change of heart at all, actually?"

"I've, uh, I've been talking to my Rabbi." He paused and looked pretty sheepish or a self-proclaimed badass. "He's been helping me work through some stuff about my dad, and, well, you. He said the most badass thing a guy can do is be there for his kid—and I thought about it and kinda figured he was right." Puck shrugged a little. "And I realized that when _our_ daughter is born, she's gonna need her parents to be grown-ups. We should probably start acting like it, huh?" He gave her a small smile—nowhere near his usual smirk—and Quinn was suddenly hit with the realization that he had a point. She nodded again.

"Thank you, for coming here and apologizing." She swallowed slowly. "And you're right. As scared and overwhelmed as I was, I could have been nicer to you, too." He nodded and accepted her apology. Then he flashed another smile at her.

"Now that we've reached a truce and everything—do you think we could maybe talk about how I can help—please?" He looked incredibly hopeful, and Quinn found herself wanting to cooperate, at least a little. She sighs.

"Well, I've got an ultrasound in a few days—Mr. Schue was going to take me, but you can come along if you'd like."

"Really? You wouldn't mind?" He looked like a hopeful puppy dog, and Quinn shrugged. He'd apologized for being a douche, and it's not like she was relying on him for something or anything—she could afford to be generous.

"Yeah, whatever. You couldn't possibly be more awkward than Mr. Schue; the first time he took me to the doctor's office he couldn't look at any of the posters without turning beet red. He spent the visit with his eyes glued to the floor." She giggled, and Puck looked relieved.

"Hey, Q?" He looked bizarrely shy—an expression that had Quinn fighting the urge to glance out the window and look for flying pigs.

"Yeah?"

"I'd really like my daughter's parents to be friends, you know? My parents aren't friends, and I always thought it'd be nice." Suddenly, Quinn was reminded of her own parents, how her father strutted around and demanded things, and her mother simply nodded, toed the line, and drank to avoid conflict.

"Yeah. Mine aren't either. It sounds nice, though, you're right." She was struck by a sudden urge to share something with the father of her child, which again had her mentally searching for those flying pigs. "Hey, do you want to see a picture?"

"Of your parents? Uh, not really." He looked confused and a little put off at the idea of looking at her parents' picture, which, Quinn supposed, was fair enough.

"No, idiot, of the baby! I have some ultrasound pictures from past visits—do you want to see them?" She was trying to curb her natural bitchiness, since this was important, but honestly, she was incredibly uncomfortable and Rome wasn't built in a day, right?

"You've already got pictures? Lemme see!" He helped haul her off the couch and tried not to stare as she more or less waddled into the kitchen towards the refrigerator. She pulled a stack out from under a magnet shaped like a gold star and handed them to Puck. He was silent as he leaned back against the counter and slowly paged though the images. Suddenly, he cleared his throat.

"Does she have a name yet?" His voice startled her out of her own thoughts and at her confused look, he clarified. "The baby—have you named her?"

She shook her head, "No, I've been trying everything I can think of, and Mr. Schue bought me a baby names book, but I just can't find _the one_ yet. Hopefully it'll come to me soon, because I really want to put her name on the wall in our room." He looked at her quietly for a moment.

"Do you care, uh, I mean, can I make a suggestion?" He looked like he was making a conscious effort to watch what he said, and Quinn thought, _what the Hell. If it sucks I just won't pick it._

"Give me what you got, Puckerman." She gestured with her hands for him to go ahead.

"Esther. It means 'star' in Hebrew." She started a little.

"Uh, Puck, I thought I made it clear that I wasn't comfortable raising the baby Jewish back when I was living with you—"

"No, I know. But the story's in the Christian Bible, too, right? And plus, it's kind of what got me over here today." Quinn blinked.

"It is in the Bible, you're right," She nodded, faintly amazed that he knew that. "What do you mean the story got you over here? I thought you said you'd been talking to your Rabbi?"

"Look, I've been talking to him a lot—about a lot of stuff that has nothing to do with you," He paused to give her a fierce look, as though she was going to try and get him to spill his guts. "But we've been talking about the baby, too. And I asked him why God would choose to send her now if he's got such a grand plan, you know?" They sat down together at the stools at the breakfast bar to talk. Quinn's ankles were swelling even more and she was sick of standing.

"I asked my priest the same thing at the last meeting of the Catholic Unwed Mothers Connection group I'm a part of." She surprised herself with that admission. She hadn't meant to tell him that at all, this was the first time they spoken without screaming at each other in months—she didn't want to overextend the truce.

"Right, well, he said that even if it doesn't seem like it right now, sometimes people are placed in situations that are hard for a reason, yeah? Like Esther was. She saved the Jews, even though she'd gotten all kidnapped and nearly killed for going to the king before she was invited and everything. Plus, she was super brave, which is awesome and badass—something I'd think our kid would appreciate when she got old enough." He paused, gauging her reaction, and swallowed.

"Well, uh, that's a pretty _loose_ interpretation of the plot points of the story, Puck, but I guess the gist is right." She gave him a more serious look. "I'll think about the name, ok? Let me try it on for size for a while." Puck nodded and gestured to the stack of images on the counter.

"Fair enough. Can I take one of these? Then I'll get out of your hair—I think we've had enough togetherness for this afternoon, yeah?" She nodded and slid off the stool. He grabbed an ultrasound picture off the counter and followed her back to the front door.

"See ya around, Puck." She had her arms wrapped around her stomach again as they walked back to the door. Suddenly the door opened and Mr. Schuester walked though, carrying bags of groceries.

"Hey Quinn, I got that Catalina dressing you said you couldn't live without, but I couldn't find any artichokes that weren't-" He stopped cold as he turned around and noticed Puck standing in his entryway. "What's going on? Quinn?" He swiveled to look at her.

"I was just leaving, Mr. Schue." Puck dodged around Will and slipped through the front door, handily avoiding a confrontation with the teacher. Quinn had to admit—even if it was just to herself—that she was mildly impressed with the evasive maneuver. She took a deep breath before she tried explaining how Puck's visit had actually been not all that bad.

"Mr. Schue—really, everything's fine." She tried to flash her most calming, don't-freak-out-Mr. Schue-I've-got-everything-under-control smile at him. He wasn't ready to just let it go, but he at least no longer looked like he was ready to simultaneously kick Puck's ass and hyperventilate at the same time.

"What was he doing here, Quinn—are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah—we talked for a while."

"You _talked_? That was it?" Will looked incredulous

"Well, ok, we argued a little, but really, it was good. We needed to talk."

"What about?" Will seemed apprehensive, but Quinn didn't think she could blame him _that_ much, since ever since Babygate (and God, did she _hate_ that term, thank you very much Kurt and Mercedes) all they seemed to do was scream at each other until Quinn ended up in tears. Still, it's not like they had that many topics in common.

"The baby, obviously." She refrained from rolling her eyes, as that seemed to push the boundaries of respect for her elders just a little too far for her tastes.

"What did he say?" Will moved to put the groceries down on the kitchen table, but his tone was still more than a little wary.

"He said—"she paused, thinking of how best to summarize their conversation. "He said that he wants his daughter's parents to be friends. And I agreed." Will turned to look at Quinn fully. She raised her chin and met his eyes, hands over her bump.

"Friends? What does that mean?" Sometimes Will was taken aback by how Quinn seemed both older and younger than she should be in equal parts. She came to incredibly mature conclusions one minute, but expressed them with incredible naiveté, all at once.

"Well, we didn't get that far in the plan, but we're going to try to be better. We apologized for the things we did to hurt each other and we're going to try and move on." Will opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "And we did hurt _each other_, you know. It wasn't just him hurting me all the time." He shot her an incredulous look.

"Really? Because I've seen a lot of him being needlessly cruel and you just having to take it." She smiled a little at his staunch defense of her.

"Look, Mr. Schue—I know you like to stay above McKinley's student drama and everything, but there's a reason I was the head cheerleader. My nickname might as well have just been 'head bitch' instead of 'Q'." He opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again at her look. "I said a lot of things to him that you weren't present for. And the whole Finn thing was my idea. He wanted to take responsibility right away. That's what this meeting was really about—taking responsibility."

"Responsibility for what?" Will was still not convinced that all should be forgiven.

"For ourselves. For our decisions—good, bad, and all. For our child." Will looked at his 16 year old roommate/pseudo daughter. She was meeting his eyes straight on, standing calmly in their shared kitchen. The words coming out of her mouth were reasoned and logical. The fact that they didn't satisfy his own urge to exact justice on the boy that made her cry was, when he stopped and thought about it, irrelevant.

"O.k., then." She blinked, surprised that he gave in that easily.

"O.k.—that means you're not going to be weird when he comes to the ultrasound?"

"He's coming to the—no, no I will not be weird. Promise."

"Alright, then." She nodded at him. "I'm going to go put my feet up. My feet are swelling and I feel fat." She turned around and moved down the hall to her bedroom. Will saw her grab her Bible off the end table on the way through the living room.

When he was sure she was out of sight, he sat down at the kitchen table and rubbed his hands over his face. Sometimes it made him feel really young, dealing with Quinn. When she took control of a situation like that she reminded him that she was going to be a mother soon—and it looked like she was going to be a good one, at that. He, in contrast, was a thirty-something with a divorce under his belt and nothing much to show from the relationship.

"Mr. Schue!" Quinn's voice floated in from the other room.

"Yeah?"

"Did you say you found the Catalina dressing and artichokes?"

AN: Ok, so there's not exactly a terrifically awesome excuse for taking a gagillion years to update, other than to say that, um, real life happened? Anyway, here's the next chapter. The plan is for one, maybe two more chapters and an epilogue, FYI, but I make absolutely no promises as to when they might materialize.


End file.
